The Requiem
by panicxxattack
Summary: Time does not heal all wounds. Some wounds cut straight to the soul and cannot be stitched back together by the passage of time. Death takes its toll on hearts, death leaves the deepest wounds. Especially in the heart of Victoire Weasley.
1. Prologue

**Prologue: Seven Years**  
_In which Victoire recollects._

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Victoire Weasley was situated near the edge of the ocean's waters, her silhouette still and motionless, on the shoreline she'd frequently visited in her twenty-three years. However, her eyes weren't set on the black, rolling waters of the ocean in front of her, nor the brightly lit full moon above set on a back drop of glistening stars, millions of light years away. No, instead, her deep blue eyes were locked on the small object she cradled delicately in her hands – an old, golden pocket watch with intricately drawn roman numerals and hands that hadn't ticked in a few years short of a decade. A breeze stirred and another wave crashed, the water not quite rising far enough in the sand to reach her bare feet. She shivered unconsciously, only dimly noticing all of these things, her thoughts focused solely of recalling the past. An eerie sense of déjà vu passed over her, reminding her once again that she'd stood in the exact spot seven years ago.

Seven years. That was how long it had been since Victoire had last seen, or heard, from Teddy Lupin. Seven long years since she'd last seen the man she'd known and loved her whole life, whom she'd always thought she'd know and love forever. Seven years since she'd laid eyes on him, since she'd seen his wolfish grin, heard his loud and booming laugh that seemed to fill her up with happiness, and seven years since he'd scooped her up and placed a sweet kiss on her light pink lips. Eighty-four months since he'd told her he loved her for the last time.

And to her it felt like an eternity.

She remembered everything about that day, the day she'd said goodbye to him, vividly. Every tiny, unimportant, minuscule detail about it was seared into her memory. The way the clouds covered the stars in the night sky in warning of rain, what she was wearing, the exact location of the small hole on the hem of his shirt, and the way his hands were pushed deep into the pockets of his jeans. She recalled his smell, the sound of his voice, and the way his eyes wouldn't meet hers. Absolutely everything. She'd burned everything about that last, final day into her memory, making sure she'd never forget anything about him. She'd forced herself to, fueled by the terror of forgetting. She clung to any detail for dear life, tortured by the idea of forgetting a single thing. The memory was all she had left of him. That and the pocket watch.

She knew the exact time that he'd disappeared from her life, she had it pinpointed down to the very second. She knew because she had watched through blurred vision as the pocket watch ticked for ten seconds, precisely, before she'd stopped the watch all together, ceasing the ticking of the watch and turning it immobile. The way it had stayed since then. She'd stopped the clock with a simple spell, telling herself that all the time he would be gone wouldn't count. No second without him counted in her mind's eye.

At the time, stopping the ticking of the watch was a sudden idea and she had thought herself quite clever and romantic for thinking it up. No one knew, specifically, why Victoire kept Teddy's pocket watch from running, though they all had a pretty good idea. They knew not to mention it, for her sake, and knew well enough that she wouldn't answer them even if she was asked. Victoire was glad she'd gotten the notion all those years ago. Knowing the exact time he'd vanished from her life seemed of the utmost importance.

Though Victoire could draw up every detail of her life from childhood to sixteen, she had a great deal of trouble recollecting anything from then on up. Her memories consisted of very little that stood out to her, though so much had happened in the past years. She could name certain big events that had occurred, like her graduating from Hogwarts, starting her first job at the Ministry of Magic and the various other jobs she'd had since then, the wedding of her cousin Lucy, and the birth of her sixteen year old cousin's baby - Rose's baby. She could vaguely recall the first year of Teddy's absence, and the point where she had found out he was dead. She remembered her father and her Uncle Harry sitting her down at the kitchen table and breaking the news to her with grave faces, but she remembered it much like you remember a nightmare after waking up in the morning.

The exact moment, the anniversary of when she'd last seen him, had occurred a little over half an hour ago, but she remained frozen, her eyes locked on the last physical bit of Teddy she had left. She was unable to will herself to move, caught up in her memories and a torrent of raw emotion that threatened to break apart any shred of self-control she had left. This was her tradition, her ritual she'd kept up with since he'd gone. Not only had she'd stood in the same spot seven years ago, but every year since, doing the same thing.

Victoire inhaled deeply, catching the scent of salty ocean air mixed with her flowery perfume. She dropped the watch out of her hands, letting it swing back against her chest from the matching golden chain it was placed on. Her hands shook slightly as she tossed her head up towards the night sky, her eyes on the illuminated sky without really seeing it.

A rush of recollection washed over her, the memory paralyzing her and playing in her head like a movie – all without warning. Falling asleep in the sand at dawn while reading, Teddy waking her up, the way he wouldn't look at her, his telling her that he had to leave for an Auror mission and that he'd be gone for months, him giving her his father's pocket watch – his most prized possession, telling her he loved her, and finally giving her one last bittersweet kiss before apparating away. He had never returned, breaking his promise to her that he would come back.

Victoire pulled herself from the memory, her eyes misty as she kept the picture of him in her mind. His turquoise hair, liquid silver eyes, wrinkled robes, and slightly tanned skin. She imagined how his arms had felt around her, the way they just seemed to fit and how at home she felt there. Her lips tingled as she imagined his warm, soft lips pressing a kiss there. She thought she could almost feel him. The whole memory made her weak to her knees and a flood of emotions took hold of her. The first tear left her eye, trailing down her cheek and leaving a wet stain on her ivory skin.

What would life be like if he was still alive? She asked herself silently, knowing the answer. She'd almost certainly be married to him by now, she'd be blissfully happy, and she might have been the one to give Molly Weasley her first great grandchild, not Rose. The thought made more tears spill over, faster. She'd always wanted children, ever since she was little and use to make Teddy and her siblings play house with her – her being the doting mother, Teddy being the affectionate father, and Louis or Dominique being their bratty and crying babies prone to temper tantrums. Now she wasn't sure she'd ever have a family of her own. She questioned if she'd ever get married, if she'd ever have kids. She had found no guy that she could feel even a fraction of what she felt for Teddy and had been on only three dates and had one boyfriend that lasted a week, each try at moving on from her dead boyfriend equally pathetic and hopeless. She'd given her heart to Teddy long ago and he'd taken it with him to the grave.

Her breathing was shaky as she clutched her hands around her bare arms, nails digging into her skin as she fell onto her knees. Her petite frame shook with sobs she kept down, pools of tears spilling over her eyes and running down her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut to try and contain them, but it was useless. The slight blonde cursed herself inwardly, hating that she was being so weak. She'd promised herself she'd keep in the tears - a stupid promise, bound to be broken, she realized now. Recalling anything about him evoked emotion, usually teary.

She tried to picture what he would look like now, if he was still alive, but couldn't. Would he still have turquoise hair and a crooked nose or would he have changed his hair to its natural mousy brown shade? Would he still wear old t-shirts of muggle bands and faded jeans that he'd cover up with a crisp black robe whenever he left for his job? Would he still be a fan of the Chudley Cannons or would he have been so disgusted by their performance at the last Quidditch World Cup, like her Uncle Ron, that he would instead root for someone else? Would he still wear that dragons tooth around his neck that Uncle Charlie had given him for his thirteenth birthday? She didn't even know if he would have still kept his father's pocket watch in the front pocket of his robes. And would he have let her keep the watch if he'd ever come back? She wasn't sure.

"W-w-why?" She managed between shuddering sobs, her voice coming out in a shrill gasp as she wrapped her thin arms around her legs, hugging her knees to her chest. Her long, blonde hair was all that could be seen of the girl as her head dropped onto her knees. Her body racked, but she was able to subdue her cries into soft whimpers as hot tears continued to flow down her flushed cheeks and onto the denim of her jeans, wetting the fabric. "Why him?" she finished the question, the question she'd asked herself so many times, in a broken tone.

It was a cruel twist of fate that boy meant everything to her and who she had known like back of hand was taken from her. That a boy so perfect and so full of potential could possibly have died so early, without him getting to be able to prove himself to the world or really getting to experience life. It was a fate that his parents had shared, too, and Victoire wondered if all people with the last name Lupin were destined to have their lives end in their prime. _At least_, she thought to herself, _He's finally gotten to be with his parents. He always missed them so much_. However, it was a tragedy above all others, though, that a love so true could be cut so short so abruptly.

Victoire had loved him passionately, boundlessly, and with every fiber of her being. She glowed when he was around her, beamed when he said her name, and expressed a dizzying enthusiasm whenever they were together. She was surprised, really, by how fast she fell so in love with him and by how quickly they went from the very best of best friends to a couple very much in love. They were only together, officially, for a few months before he disappeared, but it seemed like so much longer. Like decades. Then again, he'd always been her Teddy.

They'd known each other for forever. They were inseparable ever since they were small children, constantly together. Little Victoire with her wild imagination and knack for mischief and young Teddy, two years her senior, bold, adventurous, and the only child willing to go along with her devious plots. They'd been partners in crime as children, and it was uncommon to see one without the other. They played in the forest by the Burrow, explored the sea caves near Shell Cottage while pretending to be pirates looking for buried treasure, pushed each other into mud puddles, and comforted one another when Victoire scraped her knee or Teddy missed his parents. The duo were as close as brother and sister; he looked at her as his little sister he never had and she idolized him like she would an older brother. And what started as deep rooted friendship, bloomed into pure love.

It was inevitable that the two would fall in love, no one questioned it. Even Bill Weasley couldn't deny that the two seemed destined to eventually fall in love. Though, he frequently tried to suggest the idea of Teddy being gay to ease himself into comfort. The Weasley family, along with the Potters, even had a bet made – guessing at what age they'd become an item. Ginny Potter had won it, guessing the date to the exact day and winning herself a hundred galleons total. Of course, her family didn't realize she'd prompted her Godson to tell Victoire how he felt about her on her fifteenth birthday, the day she'd guessed for their little bet. Teddy, who had long since realized that little Victoire definitely was no longer a little sister in his eyes, had kissed her at her birthday party for the first time, thus beginning their relationship and sparking the match that set the fire.

As Victoire continued crying, she imagined how her mother would act if she was with her now. She could picture her placing a hand lightly on her shoulder, then pulling her into her arms and wiping away the tears as she shushed her sobs. She would stroke her platinum blonde locks, trying to sooth her daughter as she whispered condolences to her in her soft, honey tone, tinted with a pretty French accent. But even her mother, her confidant and the woman who knew her best, couldn't understand her oldest daughter's pain. Fleur Delacour Weasley had never lost anyone she was truly close to and was unable to imagine her losing Bill like Victoire had lost Teddy.

Victoire had so much going for her before his death. She was lively, ambitious, clever, daring, witty, and strikingly beautiful. She cared about everyone, was very artistic and creative, and had a vibrant air about her, a constant flare in her personality that caught people's attention. A smile constantly occupied her face and she was, by far, the most cheerful girl of her age. Her personality altered drastically after the funeral. No longer did she have a cheerful air to her manner or a passion for life. On the inside she was just numb, though she feigned happiness for her family's benefit. The façade was easily seen through, though, and a chorus of 'Poor Victoire's were constantly murmured in whispers throughout her large family's separate household every time the previously animated girl was mentioned.

She sniffed, rocking herself back and forth as her sobs subsided. With the back of her hand she rubbed her watery eyes, wiping away the remnants of her tears. _Cruel,_ she thought to herself repeatedly, _Life is cruel. Unfair._ The wind whipped her hair into her eyes, causing her long tresses of hair to flail in the wind before falling limply at her shoulders. She took in slow breathes, trying to even her shaky breathing. Finally, she forced most of the frenzy of emotions down until she was able to think clearly.

_Well, at least this still isn't as bad as the first few months_, she told herself coaxingly, _Nothing was as bad as the first few months._ But even as she thought that, she wasn't sure it was entirely true. Being there, in the exact spot she'd stood seven years ago with him, was new shock of pain. It was stinging, lasting, and made her chest feel heavy as if a dead weight was set on it. It was a suffering even she was surprised by, marveling at how after so long it could still hurt so much.

"It still hurts." she whispered to herself, her voice small and fragile. Much like how she felt. She tightened her arms around her legs before slowly dropping them, stretching her long legs out in front of her with an inaudible sigh. Her eyes focused on her hands, which she folded in her lap, dully noting that the mauve colored nail polish on her left pinky was chipped. _When will I just get over it, over his death? When will I move on with my life?_ Her frown deepened, her brow creasing as she wrapped her arms around her middle, hugging herself and asked herself another question, _When will I be happy again?_

She doubted that she'd ever be truly happy again, that she'd ever regain the intense ardor she had felt for life. Nothing seemed bright anymore, everything was dull and lack luster. Everything had lost its shine and her eyes where no longer wide and full of life, taking in everything. She knew how much she'd changed, she'd frequently attempted to regain any normalcy to her personality. She'd tried dating other guys even, more than once, with disastrous results. But she really had tried. She'd traveled and explored exotic places, just like she'd always said she'd do. Although she had found her trip around the world interesting, it failed to rejuvenate her or provide any real pleasure. Nothing revived her from her state, nothing turned her back into her vivacious younger self.

She kept trying, though. She refused to give up on life, even when she didn't feeling like living. Some days she woke up, wondering how she could possibly continue living when Teddy, the man molded perfectly for her who she'd loved ardently, was six feet under.

In reality, she was breathing and functioning, but she was just as dead as Teddy.


	2. The Way I See It

**Chapter One: The Way I See It**  
_In which Victoire is confronted by her sister._

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Victoire awoke to the irritating, repetitive beeping of her alarm clock, a soft groan escaping her lips. She reached blindly for it, her eyes squeezing even more tightly shut as she buried her head into her pillow and clicked the off button. She felt the sun against her face and mentally cursed herself for forgetting to close the blinds, realizing she was past the point of being able to get back to sleep. However, she stayed there for a few moments, not quite fully ready to leave her comfy bed.

She knew she'd dreamed, but couldn't put her finger on exactly what. Whatever it was, it had left her feeling lighter and gave her a lingering sense of content. A small smile crept onto her lips and she was surprised by the feeling. Hadn't it only been a few hours ago she was on the beach, weeping over Teddy? Now she felt a small flicker of hope, thinking to herself that today might just be a good day.

The blonde woman pushed back her covers and kicked them off her, sitting up quickly. Her hands rose to her eyes, rubbing the drowsiness from them before her heavy eyelids opened. A small yawn emerged and she stretched her arms out, regretting that she hadn't bothered to change out of her clothes before she went to bed. She swung her legs from the side of the bed, cringing slightly from the cold draft in the room. Her feet touched the cool wood of the floor and she continued rubbing her eyes as she pulled herself up off the bed.

A half an hour later she was showered and fully awake. She padded across the her room from the bathroom, running her fingers through her wet and tangled locks before grabbing her wand off her night table and murmuring a quick spell to dry her hair. Going over to her closet, she swung open the doors. A shoe fell out, but she ignored it, not bothering to shove it back into her closet as she sifted through her hangers of clothes. Spotting a baby blue sundress she'd never worn before at the back of her closet, she considered it. It suited her personal taste, but she'd never felt inclined to wearing a dress much as of late. Deciding to go for it, she yanked it off the hanger.

Victoire looked down at herself after putting on undergarments and sliding the dress over her head, examining to see if it still fit. It did. She spun around on her heels towards the framed full length mirror that hung on the back of her door, catching sight of her reflection. She was pleasantly surprised to see it looked quite good on her, the way it hung fell nicely on her small frame and the soft, sky blue color looked good with her pale skin tone and white blonde hair color. She made a mental note to start wearing dresses more often, specifically the one she was currently wearing, the small smile that had crept onto her lips increasing – along with her mood.

Her musings where interrupted by the loud sound of her doorknob rattling, though it took her a moment to distinguish what the sound actually was. She heard her door bang open and winced, knowing fully well that the loud impact her living room door had just made would add to the dent already on the wall beside the front entrance in her living room.

She knew who it was already, simply by the fact that her sister was the only person who would ever simply barge into her flat like that and the only one who had a key.

"Victoire!" she heard her call out in a sing-song voice that reminded her much of her own. Dominique reminded her much of a more outlandish, brutally honest version of her younger self. Passionate and animated, maybe to an extreme, less lovable degree then she had always been. Dominique was quite often wild, untamable, and she spoke her mind, no matter the circumstance. The second youngest – or second oldest, depending how you looked at it – of Fleur and Bill Weasley's children was both loud and contemptuous. However, she did have a sweet side, though it was shown far less than her fiery side.

Victoire hurried out of her room and into the small living room of her flat, mostly desolate and neat, if not plain. The room was painted white, being as she'd never bothered to paint it. The contents of the room included a rickety wooden coffee table, a muggle stereo with an alphabetically organized set of CDs next to it, a small bookcase, and one couch, which Dominique was falling down onto - making herself at home - as Victoire made her entrance. Dominique looked up at her and offered a smile, one her sister returned.

"You look nice today." She remarked sincerely as she plucked a small photo album off the coffee table, examining her sister's dress with a small nod before her eyes lowered to look through the pictures. She'd scene the album before, of course, and had her own copies of most of the moving photographs of their family over the years, but that didn't matter. She was the type of person who had to always be doing something and she liked seeing how the faces of everyone in the album grew older and older page by page, being as the album was structured chronologically.

"Thanks." Victoire returned quietly, sitting down next to her on the couch and leaning over to look at the album she was looking through. She ignored the empty feeling she got in the pit of her stomach from seeing Teddy's face in a group picture – one where they were both putting bunny ears behind each other's heads and where they were both respectable around the ages of ten and twelve – as Dominique flipped through it page by page. Victoire turned her head away to avoid catching site of one particular picture she knew was coming up, not wanting to ruin her good mood.

The picture was of her and Teddy during the summer before her last year at Hogwarts, the last summer he'd been alive. It had been taken by their cousin Lucy, who always seemed to be taking candid photos of the moments that were truly picture perfect. The moving photograph displayed Teddy and Victoire dancing together out in the garden of the burrow at sunset. At the time, Lucy had taken the picture in secret to be used to embarrass Victoire, but the picture had turned out to display exactly how close Teddy and Victoire's relationship was. The dazzling grin on Victoire's lips and the look he was giving her captured a moment that seemed too intimate for even Lucy to expose to the rest of the Weasley bunch. So the girl had hid it, hoping one day she'd have something like Victoire and Teddy had, until his death. She'd given it to her cousin at Teddy's funeral.

The album itself had been a gift for her last year from her cousins Lily, Albus, and James Potter who had put it together for her by collecting photos from the family to give to her in the album for Christmas. Victoire had cried when she'd opened it and given all three of the Potter children warm, loving hugs that made them all feel very good on the inside. That display at Christmas had been the most emotion they'd seen from her since Teddy's funeral and ever since then Victoire had been a bit more friendly and open to the Potters, though she'd always been particularly fond of that branch of the Weasley clan. It had been the second best gift she'd ever received as well as the second most cherished.

"So," Dominique began, suddenly snapping the book closed after getting a quick glance at a picture of Rose and Scorpius together, Rose looking young and very much pregnant and Scorpius looking very much afraid of Ronald Weasley, who was standing off to the side of the picture giving the pair a fierce glare. "We're going to meet Louis for coffee at around three or so." She stated, leaving no room for her sister to argue with her prearranged plan, "And I know you're off work and have nothing of value to do today, so I was thinking we'd go shopping or something as well? I need a dress for the party Uncle Harry is throwing Lily. I assume you need one too, your wardrobe is severely lacking." At her last comment she brushed an invisible speck of lint off her new, brightly colored, over priced blouse she'd purchased recently.

"Sure." Victoire responded after a moment, carefully sliding her album from Dominique's lap and placing it on its rightful place on her coffee table. That was all she said in reply, making a flicker of annoyance spark in Dominique's eyes at her lack of enthusiasm – not that she expected anything different. Victoire had become a woman of few words, each word coming slowly and without many details and hardly ever any emotion behind it. This always got to her, making her literally bite her tongue to retain any comments she wanted to make to her on the subject. She restrained herself once again for about the thousandth time since Victoire's change in character. Her restraint made her proud of herself and she frequently boasted to their mother about how well she did at not being offensive to Victoire. That would all change that day, though, because Dominique had more in store for Victoire then just shopping and coffee.

"Then let's go. Time is wasting. Get your ass up and go get your purse or wand or whatever so we can head out." Dominique hopped off the couch, placing her hands on her small hips and waiting for Victoire herself to rise up from the couch. Victoire did as she was told, going to collect her shoes, purse, and wand before the two sisters left her flat – both, surprisingly, sporting smiles as they exited, but for very, very dissimilar reasons. Victoire's being for the cheerful mood she'd woken up to and Dominique's being for the promise of getting a chance to share her true thoughts with her sister for the first time in a long time.

--------------------------------

"People aren't meant to be alone." Dominique Weasley remarked casually, her index finger and thumb pinched around the end of a spoon as she swirled her coffee around in its cup. Her blue eyes, identical in its blue color to her sister's, rose up as she studied Victoire's reaction to the statement. Her dark eyebrows were arched at her, daring her to disregard the statement as false. Victoire posed no verbal response to this, instead shrugging her shoulders in a nonchalant manner as she averted her eyes out the window of the muggle coffee shop they were located in – hoping for Louis to materialize before Dominique could go on.

Her younger sister let out a huff, setting her steaming coffee cup back down on the table. She turned her eyes to the reflective window, seeing her reflection. Without thought, she quickly leaned forwards towards the surface of the window, checking her appearance. She ran her fingers through her tousled red curls, before turned her eyes to her sister and leaning back in her chair, pursing her lips. Victoire sighed quietly and looked away from the scene outside the window, resting her elbows on the small wooden table and cradling her chin in her hands as she tapped her newly manicured fingernails to her jaw.

"Victoire, please, listen to me." Victoire went still and forced her eyes onto her sister, her mouth set in a delicate frown. "I may be," Dominique trailed off, struggling to find a fitting adjective to describe herself, but coming up with none. An annoyed sigh of frustration escaped her crimson lips and she shook her head quickly. Without bothering to complete the sentence, a habit she had, she waved her hand dismissively and then slapped it onto the table. Victoire was startled at the loud smack, jumping into perfect posture from her previously slumped position in the chair. A few other customers in the shop turned their eyes towards the pair, but Dominique seemed oblivious to the attention. "Just listen to what I have to say, Vie, okay?" Dominique stared at her, eyes hard and intense as she spoke her nickname for her sister in a deathly serious tone that she wasn't accustomed to. Victoire winced at the look and tone, but nodded slowly nonetheless. "And don't give me any of that I-Don't-Know-What-You're-Talking-About bullshit." the younger sister followed in a snap that came out sounding harsher then she had meant.

"You're not…." Once again, she trailed off and then quickly changed to another approach to broach the subject on. "Victoire, I don't like your attitude. At all." Dominique paused for a second and then continued in a rush, her manner blunt and her tone edging towards exasperation, "You're so boring, so ominous, so _sealed_. You're on a whole other world. I remember, Victoire, I remember who my sister is. She's passionate and peppy and we got in the biggest trouble and laughed at so many things. She was bold and compassionate and… and _you_." Dominique caught her breath, her small speech gaining more vigor, the words seeming to spill out of her mouth. Victoire looked down at the plate in front of her, empty save for the small crumbs scattered across it – evidence of the blueberry muffin she'd had. She didn't like where her sister was going and she sure as hell didn't want to discuss this right then. In the past few years she'd managed to not have any single person mention her behavior and she'd hoped that she'd manage to slip by any comments like the ones Dominique was making for, well, the rest of her life.

Victoire braced herself and absentmindedly her hand drew to the pocket watch around her neck, fingers wrapping around the cool metal. She immediately felt more comforted.

"You must think you're fooling us, eh? But you aren't, Victoire, you aren't. And no one, no one at all, wants me to say anything; they don't want to hurt you." Dominique snorted, "There trying to protect you, I think, because you seem so goddamn delicate. Breakable. You're exterior seems sturdy, mostly, but we can see it. Sense it. Smell it. You're fragile and everyone wants to keep you from floating even farther away. I know this quiet, demure little princess with a smile that just touches her lips and not her eyes isn't you. You can swear up and down that this is just your personality. But like I said, it's bullshit. Ridiculous bullshit. I don't know how the hell I'm the only one that seems to be bothered by it."

Victoire remained utterly silent, her sister's words hitting her exactly as they were meant to hit her. She felt vulnerable in all the ways she hated, but managed to keep her poised posture. Her brow, however, creased. Dominique, who was now on the verge of continuing, leaned forward towards her sister. "This is ridiculous. You're ridiculous. And I really don't give a damn if Maman and Louis and Rose and Lucy and Albus and everyone else tell me to leave you alone about it, because I want you to snap out of it. I want Victoire back, please, instead of this." She gestured towards her, her voice steadily increasing, "I can't bring Teddy back, Victoire. Oh yes, he's dead. I'm sorry, now get over it. He would have wanted you happy, you know? He would be miserable, Vie, absolutely miserable if he could see how you've been going about life. I'm so fucking sick of this! I've gone – what, six, seven?- seven hellacious years quieting myself, keeping my opinion on the subject to myself. I've been silent for much too long. Well, I'm done! I'm not staying silent and I'm going to be my frank, bloody self and demand, force, require you to be a human being! So just tell me, dammit, what the fuck I can do to make you be you?"

Victoire's eyes grew wide, her eyes fastened on the fervent girl opposite her. She was speechless, silent, not even noticing the onlookers of coffee drinkers in the shop staring at the two of them with raised eyebrows. A good portion of Dominique's monologue was loud enough for most of the muggles in the shop to hear, creating an audience for her. She inhaled sharply, blinking rapidly as her sister watched her with tightly pressed lips.

The sound of bells chiming and a door swinging open interrupted the stiff silence that had followed, signaling a customer had just entered the shop. A tall and scrawny young man with striking features and windswept blonde hair entered. He had a large grin on his face as he adjusted the scarf around his neck, then shoved his hands back into his pockets as his blue eyes traveled around the shop, finally resting on his two sisters. Louis Weasley caught the distressed looks on both their faces, his grin evaporating into thin air as he slowly walked over to them.

_Saved by the bell_. Victoire thought to herself silently, appreciating Louis's appearance immensely.

"Sisters." He nodded, placing a cheery smile back onto his face as he greeted them. He pulled up a chair to their table from nearby and sat down on it, crossing his legs and shaking his head as he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth to produce a tsking sound, "Ladies, ladies, ladies. What have I come upon? A row, possibly?" His eyes shifted from the two women as he folded his hands into his lap. "Do I need to break something up, hmm?" He continued his teasing, trying to break up the tense air that was built up around them. Although he was four years younger than Victoire, two years younger than Dominique, he was the most level headed of the three, his passive aggressive personality making him a good compromiser to help resolve any differences. However, Louis felt out of his realm, uncomfortable even, seeing their tension.

"No fight, Louis. I'm just talking to Victoire." Dominique said tersely, crossing her arms across her chest as her eyes returned to the eldest of the Delacour-Weasley children. Victoire shifted in her seat, murmuring something unintelligent quietly as her eyes shifted to situate on a stain on the polished wood of the table, light blush tinting her cheeks. Louis shot a look at Dominique, one eyebrow arching in questioning. Dominique shrugged.

"Vie, honey, can I have a bit of that coffee? Nicki's coffee is all black and bitter. Like her heart." Louis asked smoothly, trying to lighten mood with teasing. Dominique sneered at the slur, rolling her eyes, while Victoire looked up and nodded, managing a weak smile as she pushed the cup towards her brother. He gave her a warm, reassuring smile – sending a silent message to her saying that she should ignore whatever Dominique had said to upset her – and took the cup in between his hands, thanking her in an upbeat voice.

An uneasy silence settled over the trio, down casting even Louis's disposition and making him wonder exactly what he'd come across. Dominique, finally, opened her mouth and then closed it. "I just want you to be happy, Victoire." She finally got out, picking her words out carefully as she suggested as casually as possible, "Maybe you need a boyfriend?" Once again, she had changed tactics. Louis snorted and let out a hearty, "Don't we all!" Dominique rolled her eyes at her brother and continued in a soothing tone, sounding almost sickly sweet in Victoire's ears, "You're gorgeous, Victoire, and it's all going to waste. You've got to be lonely. You live all alone in that flat of yours and you haven't been out on a date in two years? Three? Those don't even count, really, because –"

"Come off it, Dominique." Louis warned seriously, losing his playfulness as he looked at both sisters. "Vie doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to. She just doesn't have an interest in anyone, right Vie?" He looked over at Victoire, quickly, who made no reply. "And you don't need a man to be happy!" he added as an afterthought, feigning as much cheerfulness as he could muster up.

Dominique smirked slightly, "That's my point." Louis's brow pulled together in small confusion, not understanding how so as he tried to piece together what the gist of Dominique's lecturing must have been. Victoire, though, immediately caught it. Louis, unintentionally, had just agreed, unknowingly, to Dominique's point of not needing Teddy to be happy.

"Oh Merlin, what did I get myself into?" Louis muttered, watching them with wide eyes and shaking his head slowly. The young man didn't know quite what to say to the duo. He was just now grasping onto to what Dominique must have been talking about before he interrupted and although he loathed the tension between them, he was glad he had arrived before Dominique could say too much. At least, he hoped he had walked in before Dominique had gotten out too much. He'd known of just how much Dominique was troubled by Victoire's constant state of bereavement. Although he understood why Dominique, particularly, was irked by the change that had occurred in her seven years prior, he still firmly believed that Dominique should leave her alone. It was Victoire's life and he had empathy for her, making him particularly protective of his older sister and wanting desperately to protect her from any more hurt. That included his other sister's potentially vexing opinions.

Victoire kept her silence throughout, lost in thought. She felt unexplainable. Weak, weary, and disheartened. What Dominique had said about her family not wanting to say anything, not wanting to break her, it was nagging at her. Eating at her. She felt empty and lonely, isolated from her relatives more so than she ever had. Her cheerful demeanor she'd maintained earlier was lost completely now, beaten down by everything her sister had said. Did they talk about her when she was out of the room? Were they truly reserved around her? Even Lily and Rose and Lucy? Even Maman and Dad? Certainly so, she felt a part of her scream. She'd always known that they were different around her, that they held their tongues and chose their words carefully. She hated the idea, hated feeling like she was being pitied. Hated that she was, undoubtedly, fragile.

In desperation, Victoire grabbed the first coffee cup she could get her hands on, Dominique's, and took a long swig – the hot coffee burning her mouth. She didn't notice.

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